Jack's heart was too full to allow him to derive any pleasure from this scene; so he strolled on without raising his eyes till he arrived at Kensal Green. Nor is Theresa, or even Thérèse. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. We’ve deserted the posts in which we found ourselves, cut our duties, exposed ourselves to risks that may destroy any sort of social usefulness in us. He found his youngest daughter intrusive in his thoughts all through the morning, and still more so in the afternoon. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. "When it thunders, the thief becomes honest," muttered Wood.
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